Peaches
by 1schlmrm
Summary: He hated it when she called him Peaches.


The bullpen was fairly silent when Donna arrived that morning, but her boss was already in his office. Donna frowned. "Joshua Noah Lyman!" she thought to herself. He had spent the night again in his office. This would make the third night in a row that she had come to work and found her boss hadn't left the night before. Donna dropped her coffee, purse, and coat on her desk, and walked across the hall to Josh's office.

Josh was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice Donna watching him rom the doorway. She took in the ragged man she saw before her. His hair, although never quite in place, was more unruly than usual. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced. As she watched him work, she saw his hand run up and down the length of the scar that criss-crossed his chest. He had been under an added amount of stress lately with his mother taking ill, and Donna knew he wasn't exactly the picture of perfect health before the shooting. He hadn't actually been taking very good care of himself lately either.

"Good morning, peaches.", Donna chirped as best she could. Either Josh hadn't heard her or he was ignoring her. "Josh?...Josh!"

"Yeah!", he shouted without looking up from his work.

"I said, 'Good morning, peaches.' Tell me you didn't sleep here again last night."

"I didn't sleep here again last night.", Josh droned. He was in no mood to hear another lecture from Donna.

"Then why are you wearing the same suit that you had on yesterday?"

"What is this twenty questions? I stayed late to get some work done. Anything else?"

"No.", Donna replied quietly. "I should have your schedule ready in about five minutes." And with that, Donna left her boss alone to continue working.

The morning wore on and Donna kept mainly to herself, only occasionally speaking to her boss to relay messages. Other than that, the usual banter that occurred between her and Josh was missing. He hadn't even reacted this morning when she called him "peaches".

"Is he in?" Toby asked mid afternoon.

"Yes." Donna said flatly.

"May I see him?"

"He's a little on the cranky side." Donna rose from her desk in the bullpen and crossed to her boss' door, which was uncharacteristically closed. Josh usually liked the noise and chaos of the bullpen. It seemed to help him focus his energy on the task at hand. Today, however, Josh had asked Donna to keep the door closed, something about the noise level of the bullpen causing hearing damage. Donna knocked several times on the door. "Josh? Toby is here to see you."

There was no response from within Josh's office. Donna knocked several more times and spoke just a bit louder this time. "Josh?! Josh! Toby would like to see you for a moment."

"I'll catch up with him later." a weakened voice answered from the office.

"All right. Is everything okay? You don't sound like yourself." Donna questioned.

"I'm fine. Just trying to finish this proposal. Please, just hold all my messages until I'm finished."

"Okay cranky pants." Donna turned to Toby and shrugged her shoulders.

"How long has he been in there?" Toby asked.

"All night from what I can tell. Third night in a row he hasn't gone home." Donna knew the question that was coming next.

"Is he...?" Toby's eyes finished his question. Was Josh having another episode? That question had been on everyone's mind since Christmas of last year.

Josh had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder after the shooting. In typical Lyman fashion, Josh had been hiding all of his emotional stress under the facade of work related stress. Donna had been the first notice that something was not right with her boss. After a particularly horrific meeting in the Oval office and an incident involving a window in Josh's apartment, Leo had made Josh meet with Stanley Keyworth from the American Trauma Victims Unit (ATVA). The diagnosis had been post-traumatic stress disorder.

Since his diagnosis, Josh had been seeing a therapist on a regular basis. He seemed to be improving, and Donna had let her guard down just a little. Perhaps she had let it down too much. As she stood there with Toby, the past few months played over again in Donna's head. Why hadn't the signs registered with her, the unusual grumpiness, the need to be sequestered on his own, aversion to noise.


End file.
